


Along the Boardwalk

by Ralkana



Series: Romance Novels [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vacation, romance novels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 22:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil's first vacation as a couple has been a long time coming, and they're determined to relax and take it easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Along the Boardwalk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lapillus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapillus/gifts).



> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> For lapillus, for her birthday and because she's awesome. Sorry it's late, hon, and I hope you enjoy it!

 

From his lounger under the shade of the large beach umbrella, Phil looks up from his tablet just in time to watch Clint rise from the water.

He looks like an image from the covers of the romance novels he's so fond of reading, water cascading down miles of toned muscle and golden skin. The swim shorts he's wearing are incredibly tiny, showing off his powerful thighs and chiseled hips, and expertly cradling that perfect ass of his.

They're square cut shorts, part of the newest official Avengers merchandising line, and something Clint grabbed with glee when the samples arrived at the tower. They are a bright, vibrant purple with white laces, the Avengers logo prominently placed on the front, along the upper thigh just above the hemline. On the back, just over the left butt cheek, there is a purple, lavender, and white bullseye.

Phil's pretty certain that Clint chose the beach for their vacation just so he could show them off, and he'll never admit it, but part of his reason for agreeing was the chance to see it. His tablet droops in his hand as he stares unashamedly.

He's not the only one. Clint is attracting attention from all over the beach -- Phil can't help his smirk when Clint nods and smiles at a couple of young women, only to have the first stop and stare and the second run right smack into her friend.

Clint's public relations smile melts into something much more genuine as he catches Phil's eye, and Phil smiles back. He knows he must look ridiculously smitten, but he still can't believe sometimes that -- of all the beautiful toned and tanned bodies on this beach alone -- Clint looks that damn happy to see _him_.

"Good swim?" he asks, handing Clint a bottle of water from their small cooler.

"Thanks. Yeah." Clint cracks the bottle and drinks deep, throat working, muscles flexing, water dripping from his hair and sliding down his skin.

"You look like a commercial for a damn sports drink right now, you know that, don't you?" Phil asks, rolling his eyes. Clint grins at him and grabs his sunglasses off the empty lounger beside Phil.

"I can't believe we're at this gorgeous beach and you're here in the shade, reading," Clint says sadly.

"The sun and I are not friends. I get lobster red and freckly, instead of turning into a golden god like you."

Clint preens, laughing when Phil throws a towel at him. He scrubs at his hair briefly with the towel and then drops it on the empty lounger, choosing instead to swing one leg over Phil's chair and squirm himself in behind Phil, wet body plastered to Phil's, wet arms tight around his waist.

"You have your own chair," Phil points out blandly, even as he's scooting forward to give Clint a little more room.

"Like yours better," Clint murmurs in his ear. Phil shivers, and Clint chuckles, kissing the sensitive spot on Phil's jawline. "Like your freckles too. Hey, how come you're not wearing the new swim shorts I packed you!"

Phil turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. The swim shorts Clint had packed for Phil were the Captain America counterparts to the Hawkeye shorts he is wearing, light blue with Cap's shield on the ass. Those shorts were never an option, and he knows Clint knows it.

Clint sighs wistfully. "A boy can dream." He hooks his chin over Phil's shoulder, one hand snaking out to pick up Phil's forgotten tablet. "Whatcha reading?"

"I'm behind again," Phil tells him as Clint wakes the screen. He keeps meaning to minimize his digital subscriptions and cut down on the actual paper issues he has on his pull list, but it seems like for every comic he drops, he ends up picking up two more.

"You are such a nerd," Clint says fondly. "Sitting on the beach reading comics."

"Do you really want to start comparing beach reading material?" Phil shoots back, and Clint grins into his shoulder. Phil's knows Clint hit Amazon's 99 cent _Sizzling Hot Summer Romances_ sale on his Kindle before they left New York.

"So," he asks Clint, "Do you have a plan for the rest of the day?"

Clint hums contemplatively in his ear, and he shivers a little. "Well," Clint says, "First, I thought we could head back to our room for a 'nap', and then I thought maybe we could walk along the boardwalk a little and have dinner watching the sunset? Play at being tourists?"

"You're taking this taking-it-easy thing to heart, hmm?"

"Believe me, the nap I have in mind involves some pretty damn strenuous activity," he growls sinuously, and Phil laughs even as he shivers in anticipation. "But it's not like we lead boring, sedentary lives, and this is our first vacation together. I thought it'd be nice to just relax?"

Phil's been looking forward to this break since they first started talking about it several months ago. Though they've been together for a couple of years now, their lives have made it impossible to take any vacation longer than a weekend until now.

Even now, they are both expecting their phones to ring at any moment, as much as they have both been promised that they will not be disturbed.

"I'm sure we'll get bored of taking it easy around day three," Clint laughs, "And then we can go surfing or parasailing or hiking or wrestling alligators or something."

"If you can last three days without getting into trouble, I'll be amazed," Phil tells him. Clint gasps in mock outrage and bites his earlobe, and Phil's laugh chokes off into a groan. He resettles himself on the lounger, using it as an excuse to lightly grind his ass back into Clint's crotch.

"Now," he murmurs. "Tell me about this nap you've got planned. Or better yet, show me..."

"Here?" Clint asks him, and Phil smiles at the grin he can hear in Clint's voice. "In front of all these people? Phillip Coulson, I didn't know that was a kink of yours."

Phil snorts. "I'm pretty sure you've shown these people enough of yourself today."

"Then I suppose we should go back to the room," Clint whispers in his ear. "Especially because if I keep thinking about it, these people are going to see a lot more of me -- it's not like these shorts leave very much to the imagination."

"Just enough," Phil says with a grin. "C'mon, I think it's naptime."

The speed with which they pack up their stuff and head back to the room is befitting of two senior SHIELD agents -- the only time they've moved faster is when there's an actual apocalypse on their hands.

 

**~ ~ ~ ~ ~**

 

Walking hand in hand along the boardwalk with a gorgeous man while the sun slowly sets over the water seems too ridiculously picturesque to Phil. It belongs in a movie. It does not belong in the life of Phil Coulson, no matter how much the rest of his life doesn't seem like it should belong to someone like him either.

He savors it, loves every moment poking along the vendors' tables and kiosks, looking at local arts and crafts, sharing incredibly unhealthy junk food and listening to the music of the buskers.

His breath catches in his throat as he spies a shop up ahead, but he keeps walking. Clint, however, sees even more when it comes to him than he sees about everyone else, and he stops and grins.

"Let's go in," he says.

"We don't have to, there are plenty of comics shops at home," Phil says, staring at the sign that says, "Rare collectibles and comics."

"Yes, but not this one. And you never know what you're going to find, right?"

Phil eyes him. "Watching me browse through longboxes of ancient comics can't be all that exciting for you, why are you being so encouraging?"

"Are you kidding? I love the manic gleam in your eye when you find something, the one that only I can see, and how you become Mr. Absentminded Casual Tourist in less than the blink of an eye, and then proceed to swindle unsuspecting shopowners out of their best stuff. It's hot," Clint says with a leer.

Phil rolls his eyes and does not blush only out of years of practice. "I do not swindle! I negotiate."

"C'mon, I wanna see you… negotiate." He waggles his eyebrows, and Phil laughs.

"You are ridiculous," he tells Clint fondly, but he pushes through the door of the comics shop anyway. He realizes he's unconsciously slowed his walk and dropped his shoulders to give himself a more casual appearance, and he glances at Clint out of the corner of his eye. Clint raises a hand and coughs quietly into it to hide his smirk.

He doesn't really expect to find anything -- his collection is extensive enough that most of the additions to it these days have been found by online searching or by his preferred dealers, and the days of stumbling over something he wants but doesn't have are pretty much over, but he always likes looking.

He's deep in conversation with the shopowner regarding the various Captain America trading card series, discussing a couple of duplicates he may or may not have at home that one of the man's customers is looking for, when he sees Clint browsing through the Avengers merchandise.

Phil loves to watch him do that -- he's always got a little smile on his face, and while he loves the Hawkeye merch, it seems he likes the group merchandise best. His eyes go a little wider, his small smile gets a little bigger, and Phil suspects it's because Clint still can't believe sometimes that he's a member of such a team.

It makes Phil want to go over and kiss him and whisper ridiculous things in his ear. Instead, he leaves Clint to his browsing and turns back to his conversation.

He wraps up by taking the man's card and giving him a promise to call if he has the cards the man's looking for, and by that time, Clint's sidled up to him and wrapped an arm around him, sticking his hand in Phil's back pocket with a little squeeze.

The man glances from Clint to Phil with narrowed eyes -- people recognizing Clint is rare, especially when he's in his civvies, but Phil supposes that if anyone will see it, it's a collector. Phil gives him a bland smile and says his goodbyes.

"Didn't find anything?" Clint asks when they are out of the shop, hand sliding out of Phil's pocket to tangle their fingers together again.

Phil shrugs. "Didn't expect to, but it's always fun to look."

They're about a hundred yards away when Clint stops dead.

"Shit," he says. "I forgot something in there. Wait here for me?"

Phil eyes him; Clint looks back innocently, and Phil suppresses a snort. Clint is an excellent liar, unless he's lying to Phil or Natasha.

"I'll keep walking," he says, because staying still makes him twitchy -- makes them both twitchy. He can always feel a target on him. "Catch up?"

Clint nods with a squeeze of his hand and then jogs back toward the shop, and Phil keeps walking, peering at storefronts and shop windows.

Clint jogs back up just as the lady behind the counter is handing Phil his little paper cone of fresh, hot donuts. They smell wonderful, and he takes an appreciative sniff as he thanks her.

"Did you find what you forgot?" Phil asks mildly, and Clint flushes a little as he nods.

The first donut is delicious, and he hums in appreciation and then offers the cone to Clint.

"Why, Mr Coulson," Clint says in exaggerated tones of shock as he plucks one out of the cone. "Sharing your donuts? It _must_ be love!"

The words are garbled through the donut, and Clint now has cinnamon sugar on the tip of his nose, and an incredible wave of affection rolls through Phil. He wants nothing more than to bend close and lick the sugar off Clint's nose. He settles for rolling his eyes and saying, wryly, "Must be," before eating another donut.

They stand at the railing, watching the waves and sharing a dozen tiny donuts, and the sad sound of disappointment Clint makes when his fingers hit the bottom of the cone shakes a laugh out of Phil. He balls up the paper and tosses it away, turning back to find Clint wiping his hands on his cargo shorts. He sighs and offers him a napkin.

"No, thanks," Clint says with a bright grin. "So, ah, listen. I... found a new card for your collection."

"Oh?" Phil asks, curious. He didn't see Clint by the collectible cards, but it's possible Clint saw something from across the shop and went back for it. There's a reason he's called Hawkeye after all.

Clint hands him a small paper bag, holding a single card in a soft plastic case.

It's a Hawkeye card from the newest Avengers set, one of the somewhat rare holographic foil ones. He's silhouetted on a rooftop in front of a brilliant sunset, bow drawn fully back, arrow aimed at the sky.

 _To my #1 fan, ur a cutie! Luv, Hawkeye_ is scrawled across the bottom in silver Sharpie. Phil doesn't snort with laughter, but it's close.

He rubs a thumb across the signature. "Bet you give these to all the boys," he says.

"Only the cute ones," Clint says with a rakish grin and a wink.

"You've ruined its collectible value, you know, by autographing it," Phil tells him, imagining the shopowner wincing as Clint scribbled on it, and Clint snorts.

"Yeah, I'm aware, my boyfriend is a nerd who rants about these things all the time," he says. "Besides, it's not like it's ever gonna be worth anything anyway..."

He trails off, watching as Phil takes out his SHIELD ID case and tucks the card behind the ID, and the joy in his eyes and the way his smile turns shy and pleased make Phil want to find and hurt everyone who's ever made him think he's not worth being treasured.

"Star of my collection," Phil tells him honestly, and Clint rolls his eyes and opens his mouth -- no doubt to shoot something sarcastically back -- when he catches sight of something down the boardwalk and freezes.

"Clint?" Phil glances in that direction and sees nothing, but that's not unusual. Clint sees things he doesn't all the time, even when he's wearing his glasses. "What is it?"

"I..." Clint starts, but then he trails off. He is completely distracted and frowning, and Phil feels the first stirrings of alarm.

"Barton?" he asks in a low voice, and Clint blinks, startled.

"What? No, it's not work, it's just... I..."

He starts walking down the boardwalk without another word, and Phil follows. There are mostly souvenir shops and food kiosks, but down the boardwalk, he sees one window shining brightly with neon light. They get closer, and he reads, "Lady Esmeralda's House of Fortunes." Smaller signs proclaim tea readings, palm readings, tarot readings, detailed horoscopes, and _all the answers to your most burning questions_.

Judging by Clint's pale, drawn face, Phil doesn't think he wants a palm reading.

"Clint?" he asks softly. "Do you want to go in?"

Clint bites his lip. "I... I don't know... yeah... I think?"

Phil can't help smiling. "Do you want me to go with you? Or stay out -- "

"No!" Clint blurts. "I mean... yes. I want you to go with me."

But he makes no moves to enter the little shop -- all he does is stare. So Phil takes his hand and tugs a little. Clint blinks and flushes but goes along.

They step into the shop, and a little bell tinkles as they do. It's every bad fortune telling cliche Phil has ever seen or heard of. Bead curtains and tiny tables covered with chintz cloths and crystal balls. There is new age music playing softly, and it's dark, the smell of incense thick in the air. Phil covers his mouth and coughs lightly. He'd normally stay far away from something that seems so phony, but this is obviously important to Clint.

One of the bead curtains shifts, and Clint tenses beside him, gripping his hand tightly before letting go and squaring his shoulders. He looks like he's readying himself for battle, and Phil wonders if he should have insisted on carrying his weapon today. He shifts closer to one of the small tables -- the crystal ball it holds will be a suitable weapon if need be.

The woman who enters the room is older, willowy and delicate. Her heart-shaped face is delicately lined, her dark, wavy hair shot through with traces of silver. Her eyes are dark and clear, and they widen as she catches sight of Clint.

"It _is_ you," he says with a shaky laugh. “Um," he says, and then he swallows. "I don't -- I don't know if you remember -- "

"Of course I remember," she says, her voice shaking. She steps forward, raising her hands to his face to cup his cheeks. Clint blinks but obediently stays still while she studies him. Phil, at his shoulder, rests his hand on Clint's back, and he knows the touch is comforting by the way Clint's stiff posture eases slightly.

Her face is solemn as she studies Clint closely, peering into his eyes with a gaze nearly as piercing and focused as his. And then she smiles, joy breaking over her face as a tear slips free, and she pulls him toward her, curving a hand around the back of his neck and wrapping him in a hug. Clint relaxes, the breath whooshing out of him in a shaky laugh as he rests his head on her shoulder and melts into the hug. 

Phil hears her murmur, "My little bird is no longer a dove! He is now a fierce hawk — still brave and loyal and true."

"I don't know about that -- "

"Am I ever wrong?" she asks sharply as she steps back, but she takes Clint's hands, keeping him no farther than arm's length.

"Satisfaction guaranteed," Clint says with a grin. "Lady E, this is Phil. He's, uh, he's my..."

"He is yours," she says, and Clint grins and ducks his head before glancing happily at Phil, his cheeks flushing. Phil can't help smiling fondly back at him.

"Yeah. He is. Phil, this -- this is Lady E. She... she was pretty much the only one who ever gave a damn about me." His voice breaks, and he clears his throat.

"Then it's even more of a pleasure to meet you," Phil says, taking her hand in both of his. He hopes she can see his gratitude. Clint's youth was a wasteland of neglect, abuse, and abandonment, and if Clint says this woman ameliorated even some of that, Phil will always be thankful for her.

She tugs him closer and presses a kiss to his cheek. "And I will say the same, since it is clear you are taking such good care of this boy. Come, my loves. We must have tea."

She turns and disappears back through the bead curtain, and Phil tugs on Clint's hand to stay him for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"I... never thought... I..." He clears his throat and shakes his head. "I'm fine. I just... I owe her so much, Phil. She didn't have to pay attention to me -- no one else did. I'm just really glad that I ran into her now, and not fifteen years ago."

"You're a good man, Clint, and she would have seen that fifteen years ago, no matter what, just as I did. Just as SHIELD did."

Clint ducks his head, his eyes bright, and Phil lifts his chin with a finger to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I'm really glad you're here, too, for this," Clint whispers. He clears his throat again. "Come on..."

They follow Lady E through the bead curtain and down a dark and narrow hallway into a brightly lit break room that's nothing like the front part of the shop. It's clean and airy and full of modern appliances and a small table with four comfortable chairs.

There's a small bookcase in the corner, filled to overflowing with dogeared romance novels, and Clint laughs when he sees it. It's a wonderful sound, and Phil didn't realize how anxious he was until he feels Clint's laughter slow his heartbeat and ease the tight way he's been holding himself.

"Sit, sit," she tells them. The electric kettle is already boiling as she pulls down mugs and prepares their tea.

Clint trails a finger over the piles of books, and Phil suddenly realizes just _where_ Clint picked up his reading habits. He imagines a younger Lady E and a teenaged Clint quietly reading together, and the image makes him smile.

Staring at the bookshelf, Clint says, "I still have your book. The last one you gave me. I... I never meant to keep it, I wanted to give it back -- I mean, I -- " He glances up and meets her eyes briefly and then looks away again. "Now that I know where you are, I can send it back -- "

"Do not worry, my dove," she says, handing him a mug and shooing him to a seat. She hands Phil his mug with a smile, and sits down across from Clint. "It has been your book much longer than it was ever mine, and I think that except for a short while, it has been good luck for you."

They are quiet for a moment, and Phil sips his tea. It is strong, and bitter, and Phil watches as Clint sips his with a nostalgic, bittersweet smile and a glance at Lady E. Phil feels very much an outsider, and he wonders if he should have left them to their reunion. But Clint has asked him to be here, and nothing would drag him away.

"I looked for you, Clint," she tells him, and her voice is as shaky as her hands. She lowers her mug to the table and clasps her hands around it for the warmth. "I asked, but they would not tell me where they had taken you. I made calls, but nobody knew, and then the caravans packed up and left, and I did, too. I should have looked harder, but I didn't know where to start."

"It wasn't -- I wasn't your responsibility," Clint says earnestly. "I... I'll always be thankful for what you gave me, but you had your own life and your own things to worry about."

"You were a child, with no one to care for you. It was no place for you."

Clint shrugs, stares into his mug. "It was the only place I knew, and I went where Barney went. Until... I couldn't anymore."

Phil stretches his foot and taps it against Clint's. He wants to offer more comfort, and if they were in private, he thinks Clint would allow it, but when Clint is at his most vulnerable, he likes to stand on his own. _Needs_ to stand on his own.

Clint feels the light touch and glances over at him with a smile, and Phil is startled when Clint reaches for his hand. He takes it, and Clint squeezes it gratefully, not letting it go. Lady E watches them, a fond smile on her face.

She sips her tea, and then says, "You have been through some dark times, my dove, that much is clear. But you have come through them strong, and you are happy now?"

Clint answers, still smiling, without looking away from Phil. "Very. I'm not sure I deserve to be this happy."

Phil frowns at him even as Lady E gives a sound of disagreement, and Clint shrugs and looks into his tea.

"So you still read leaves?" he asks her after a moment, and she smiles.

"When asked."

"If you read yours, do you think you'd see a trip in your future, maybe? A visit, say?"

She laughs, and it sounds like bells chiming. Phil grins.

"Perhaps."

"Maybe..." Clint's shoulders hunch, and he takes a deep breath and straightens them, glancing at Phil from under his lashes. "Maybe, like, for a wedding?"

Phil's breath catches in his throat, his hand reflexively tightening around Clint's. "Clint?"

Clint smiles uncertainly, and it takes all of Phil's considerable self-control not to shove everything out of the way and climb into Clint's lap to kiss him senseless, but they have an audience.

He half turns toward Lady E, not wanting to ignore her, but completely unable to look away from Clint. She is watching them, he sees out of the corner of his eye, with a smile on her face and bright, happy eyes.

"Yes," he tells her, and Clint's eyes widen in surprise, his mouth opening in a gasp. "Yes, there's going to be a wedding, and yes, we would love for you to come. You're Clint's family. Now, if you'll excuse us, we suddenly have a lot to talk about."

Without letting go of each other, he and Clint push back their chairs, and then Phil can't help it, he _has_ to kiss Clint. Clint is laughing as they kiss, his arms tight around Phil, and Phil does his best to keep it to a simple kiss when he really wants to shove Clint into the wall and take him apart. It's not a very good kiss, because they are both laughing now, but it's wonderful anyway. He pulls away, gasping for breath, and buries his face in Clint's neck, unable to stop smiling.

Lady E moves close to them, a hand on each of their necks, and she kisses them both on the cheek, one after the other.

"Be happy, my loves," she tells them.

"We will," Phil murmurs, and he doesn't need her to read their future to know that it's the truth.

**END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Clint's swim shorts are modeled after [these Captain America ones](https://31.media.tumblr.com/fee951cb18be438e02bdb4db2e473580/tumblr_n93hf5O0MQ1rih7r6o1_250.jpg).


End file.
